(no subject)
My mom was looking for something in her jewelry box (don't get any ideas, it's wooden and painted pea green) and found an engraved commemorative buck knife my dad bought for me in 1986 (because every five year old needs a commemorative buck knife) and which she wisely stowed away for me. She let me have it now after I convinced her I am now old enough. We showed it to my dad, who had forgotten all about it, and gleefully played with it while demonstrating its most useful functions and dispensing priceless advice, mainly "never take a knife to a gun fight." The logic of the conversation sort of unspooled after that and I therefore can't recall and repeat it.